


Lassoed

by lyndysambora



Category: Bon Jovi (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:13:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22896829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyndysambora/pseuds/lyndysambora
Summary: Jon was losing his mojo. Plain and simple. He knew how to do the come-hither thing on stage, for the fans, when it was all a show, but he apparently had completely forgotten how to do it in real life, one-on-one, and actually get his message across.Either that, or Richie was an idiot. Jon didn’t know which of the possibilities was worse.
Relationships: Jon Bon Jovi/Richie Sambora
Comments: 16
Kudos: 13





	1. One

Jon was losing his mojo. Plain and simple. He knew how to do the come-hither thing on stage, for the fans, when it was all a show, but he apparently had completely forgotten how to do it in real life, one-on-one, and actually get his message across. 

Either that, or Richie was an idiot. Jon didn’t know which of the possibilities was worse. 

When they had written the song, Jon had taken the reins on it (_taken the reins_... the cliche made him smile a little to himself). And he had poured every bit of fantasy, longing, and double entendre into it that he could muster without actually jumping his partner’s bones right then and there while they wrote. And he had hoped Richie would notice. 

Richie _had_ noticed that. It had made him giggle. Repeatedly. And it had taken him a dozen times before he could sing the song with a straight face. But he had somehow never noticed the flirtatious glances that Jon had been giving him the entire time they were writing it. And every time they _sang_ it, for Christ’s sake. It was the only song recorded in mono on the album, because Jon had insisted they share the mic even in the studio-- do it hot and raw in a single take, with a single mic, like two kids who still had nothing but their passion and dreams to buoy them. But Richie hadn’t caught on. He had only suggested adding the crackles and pops of well-worn vinyl to make the mono sound cooler. 

God, he was so fucking oblivious. 

Jon stood in front of a sea of adoring Japanese fans, priming his mind and his body to do the song again. He noodled on his guitar, wondering if he could deal with the intensity of feeling it brought up in him, and with knowing that Richie was completely blind to it. And then, deciding that he couldn’t put it off any longer, he said into the mic, 

“Say, Richie!”

And when the cheers of the crowd began to filter in to him, he addressed them. “You guys know, uh, the King of Swing, Mr. Richie Sambora?”

Richie entered the spotlight, took a bow to the sounds of tremendous applause. And Jon couldn’t help himself. Leaning into the mic, to make sure _everyone_ was privy to it this time, he lowered his voice a notch and said, “Hey, cowboy.”

Richie got in close to him, into the mic, and said, “Happy New Year, Tokyo!” More raucous ovation.

Jon could only smile. He was so fucking oblivious. But he was also cute. What the fuck was wrong with him? With both of them, for that matter? Jon decided this would be the last time he would do this song. There was no way he could continue to put himself through all the pining if Richie wasn’t feeling the same way.

As always, he couldn’t help himself. He got in so close as the song began, that he could feel the electricity of the other man’s lips, and he kept his eyes squeezed shut to protect himself from the ferocity of it. And to prevent himself from making a mistake, like kissing him in front of god and everyone.

Or ad-libbing something like, “I got a ticket to ride, but it only goes one way.”

What the _fuck_ was he thinking? Too much! Do something, change the narrative...

“You wanna come with me, tonight?” he said, and gave the audience a knowing smile. Cheers. See, the fucking _audience_ understood when they were being flirted with!

Yeah, this would definitely be the last time, Jon thought, rallying his game face for the rest of the show.

\----------------------------------------

Backstage, images of their performance rolled through Jon’s head like slides in a crack-addicted projector. He collided with half a dozen bustling roadies while his mind was preoccupied with the trainwreck he’d allowed himself to be, just during that one song, because he couldn’t fucking help himself. The song came from his pants, not from his heart or his mouth, and it conflicted mightily with his sense of professionalism. He was beating himself up for it for the thousandth time when hands seized his upper arms, and he found himself face to face with Richie.

“Great show, man,” Richie said, his face bright, like it always was. 

“Yeah, yeah it was,” Jon said, trying to pull his mind into the present, so Richie wouldn’t ask him what was wrong. 

The other man smacked him on the shoulder, and Jon thought for a moment he was in the clear, and that his friend was going to wander away. But instead, Richie leaned in close to the side of his head.

“Giddyup,” he whispered, and flicked Jon’s ear with the tip of his tongue. A shiver passed through every inch of Jon’s body as Richie drew away, grinning. “See you later, man,” he said, and drifted away into the crowd.

Jon had a sudden feeling it was gonna be a strange night back at the ranch.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knew he was gonna end up in Jon’s suite tonight; he didn’t expect Jon to make the first real move, because the spineless bastard had been batting his eyelashes at Richie for months now without making an actual move.

Richie stood under the shower, letting the blazing water strip him of the sweat he’d accumulated on stage, and debating the merits of jerking off. He knew he was gonna end up in Jon’s suite tonight; he didn’t expect Jon to make the first real move, because the spineless bastard had been batting his eyelashes at Richie for months now without making an actual move. 

At first, Richie had been unsure what was happening. For about three minutes, maybe. And then Jon had started coming up with _those_ lyrics, and unleashing the half-smile, the furtive glances up through his bangs. But Richie had waited. Jon could be accidentally flirtatious, especially when he was drunk, which he had been that night. A little. Not enough to account for fucking _backdoor to heaven_, but Richie had waited.

Despite the relatively permanent boner he had had since then, Richie had waited. 

At some point, it became pretty clear to him that Jon was not flirting by accident. But by then, Richie had decided it was a little bit funny, and also sexy as all hell, so he had let it go on. He also didn’t know what in fuck he was gonna do if and when it came down to actually _acting_ on it. He’d never been with a guy. Not that he hadn’t thought about it once or twice. But he’d never been. And he was pretty sure Jon had never been, either. 

But Christ, if there was ever anyone he was gonna break the pussy streak for, it was Jon.

He decided to jerk off. If he didn’t, he was gonna come in his pants the second they started kissing. 

_Shit._

\----------------------------------------

Jon was _not_ flirtatious. He was timid. And clumsy. He tripped over his own foot as he backed up to let Richie in the door of his suite. And he didn’t say anything. And he didn’t make eye contact. For a second, Richie considered leaving and coming back in, to make sure he hadn’t walked into an alternate dimension.

“Well?” he said.

“What?” Jon said. 

“What do you mean ‘what’?” Richie said, and started laughing. Jon smiled. 

“I got carried away.”

“So you didn’t mean it?”

Jon twisted the toes of the offending foot into the carpet. “No, I meant it.”

“All of it? The lyrics, too?”

Jon finally looked at him. “You knew about that?”

“Are you shitting me?”

“And you didn’t say anything?”

“You didn’t.”

“But I did!” Jon said. Then, after a second or two, added, “Kind of...”

“Exactly.”

A silence fell over them for a minute, and then Jon said, “So are you gonna kiss me, or am I gonna die of old age waiting for it?”

“Ugh,” Richie said, cupping the sides of his head in both hands and tilting his face up. “You’re such a fucking pussy.”

He leaned in and touched his lips to Jon’s, felt the give of them, the softness, just like a woman’s, except Jon needed a shave, and his face was rough. The fusion sent a shockwave straight into Richie’s crotch, and he thanked himself profusely for the decision to jerk off before coming here tonight. Otherwise, he had a feeling he would already have the other man on the floor.

Breaking away, he brushed his thumbs over the stubble on Jon’s jaws, letting his gaze wander over the full lips he had just tasted, and which were slightly pouty now at having been relinquished. The eyelids that were now lowered and shadowed by the encroaching hair.

“Was that okay?” he asked.

“Do it again.”

When Richie moved in the second time, Jon wrapped his arms around his back and pulled him in. 

_Fuck it,_ Richie thought. Jerk-off or no jerk-off, they were going down on the floor. Riiiggghhht about now. Jon made a little _unh_ sound when he hit the carpet that was halfway between a groan of pleasure and getting the wind knocked out of him, and it made Richie want to do very bad things to him.

Like pushing his legs apart and putting his body between them. This time the _unh_ sound was all pleasure. And Richie immediately wished he had at least pulled Jon to the loveseat, if not the bedroom. What the fuck? The floor?

He barely had time to finish the thought before Jon wrapped his legs around Richie’s body and yanked him down. 

“_Shit,_” Richie said, rubbing against him. He closed his eyes and pinched his lips together, attempting to hide the sudden cacophony inside him. It felt fantastic enough grinding on a woman, who was deliciously soft between the legs, but this-- the dissonance this provoked in his head-- was dizzying. 

And Jon was still making those little groaning noises, in rhythm with Richie’s hips.

“You wanna go in the bedroom?” Richie panted. He opened his eyes to find Jon was biting his lip, hard, and already nodding.

“Nn-hnh.”

Richie got up and pulled Jon to his feet by his wrists, a little too roughly, maybe. He had no clue what they were going to do once they were in the bedroom but, judging by the way Jon was grinning now, he had a feeling _someone_ did.


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, you ever done this before?”

“So, you ever done this before?” Richie asked. He mentally congratulated himself on how even his voice sounded, despite the fact his heart was so far up in his throat he could almost taste it. “With a guy, I mean.”

“No. Well--”

“Well, _what?_” Richie said, smiling. “Who?”

“No one you know. And it wasn’t anything, really. He just kissed me. We were drunk.”

“Did you like it?”

“It was okay. It was really drunk.”

“Ah, one of those.”

“Yeah. I puked my guts up five minutes later, but I think that was more the rum than the guy.”

“Can I be honest with you?” Richie said. “I’m trying real hard to be cool about this, and I have no idea in fuck what I’m doing.”

Jon laughed, and Richie felt the constriction in his chest unwind. He hadn’t realized how choked it had been until the sound of that laugh released it. 

“Coulda fooled me. Felt pretty good out there. You know, what we did.”

“Yeah, but what now?”

“I don’t know,” Jon said, and he suddenly got very interested in a spot on the floor. “I kinda always wanted to try... you know...”

A chill passed through Richie’s whole body and settled directly in his groin. “What?”

“You know. Blowing you.”

The chill erupted into a million sparks. “Me, specifically?” Richie said, because it was the first thing that popped into his head. 

Jon nodded.

“You... _always_ wanted to try it? On me.”

“If you’re gonna make a big thing out of it, forget it!”

“No, no! I just-- It surprised me, that’s all.”

“Well?” Jon said. “Do you want to or not?”

“I, um... yeah. I mean, if you want to.”

“I just said I did.”

They stood in silence for the longest thirty seconds of Richie’s life, before he said, “I’m blowing this. Oh my god. I didn’t mean for that to come out like that. The pun, I mean. God.”

Another thirty seconds, even longer than the first. Finally, Jon said, “I still wanna do it, despite how weird you’re being right now.”

“I’m sorry! Oh my god.”

Jon laughed again. “I’m just giving you shit. Lay down, dumb fuck.”

Richie crossed the room, taking great pains not to trip over his own feet, too, and laid across the bed sideways. A moment later, he righted himself, so he was back in the pillows. “Is this good?” he asked. “Was I supposed to take off my pants?”

Crawling onto the foot of the bed, Jon said, “Nah, I can do that for you. Quit being so nervous.”

“I can’t help it. If you never did it before, how do you know you really want to?”

“Well, I’ve done it in my head about six thousand times,” Jon said, plucking at the fastenings of Richie’s jeans. “So shut up and take it, okay?”

Sparks again.

“Okay,” Richie said, and closed his eyes, letting Jon’s fingers ignite a warmth in him that rippled out in all directions. 

“That’s better,” Jon said. “Keep your eyes closed, too. Just pretend I’m not here.”

“I-- _what?_”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I _don’t_\--”

“Shh...” Jon said, and Richie felt the other man’s hand slide into his boxers. 

“Oh, god... you mean I can’t talk at all? Ah--”

“Nope. Shut up.”

The agonizing sensation of the waistband of his boxers being slid down the underside of his dick blanked Richie’s mind for an instant. He almost spoke again (though he wasn’t sure which expletive was going to get to his mouth first), but he caught himself at the last moment and grabbed wads of sheet instead.

And then Jon’s mouth happened. And so did the expletives. 

“Jesus _fuck_, what the hell?”

Jon was giggling now, and he was also sucking at the head of Richie’s cock, flicking little zigzags with the tip of his tongue. 

“Goddamn, what are you _doing?_”

“You like it?”

“You sure you never did this before?”

“Who told you you could talk?” Jon said, and Richie felt his dick consumed in an instant by the impossibly hot confines of his friend’s mouth. His back arched, hard and instantaneous, and he grabbed Jon by the hair, meaning to push him away, an instinct he wasn’t sure he understood. His breath tore at his lungs. 

Jon yanked the offending hand out of his hair and pinned it to the bed, never missing a beat. His lips slid over the surface of Richie’s cock, his tongue swirling and darting inside them, circling the head once, twice, every time it came near, fluttering at the underneath of it, probing at the little slit before dropping back down. 

The heat rolled up in Richie fast-- faster than he’d expected-- and this time he didn’t think to try to push Jon’s head away. The man pulled him in deep and hard, and held him there, sucking, and Richie let go of all sense for a moment while his body shuddered and released. 

A moment later, he was scrambling up toward the headboard. “Oh god, are you okay? I didn’t mean to--”

“I’m fine,” Jon said, pushing his hair back off his face. His lips were swollen and deep pink. “How was it?”

“Are you fucking serious?” Richie panted. 

Jon chuckled and flopped onto the bed next to him. Sighed. “That was good,” he said.

“Jonny?”

“Mm.”

“I lied earlier.”

“About what?”

“When I said I had no idea what I was doing. I was just nervous, I guess.”

Jon pulled an elbow up beneath him. “How do you mean?”

“I’ve done it to you six thousand times in my head, too. A lot of things,” Richie said. “I just-- don’t know what all _you’re_ into.”

Sliding in closer to him, Jon said, “Anything.” His lips were still so pink.


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon’s entire pelvis ached with the need to climb onto him, to be entered and owned by him...

There was a sudden gleam in Richie’s eyes in the moment before he glanced down and started absently picking at the edge of the pillowcase. A tiny smile decorated his pretty lips.

An anxious fluttering bloomed in Jon’s chest and spread out into his extremities. “When I said _anything_,” he said, “maybe I was jumping the gun a little...”

“I know.”

“Does that make me a cock tease?”

Richie snorted softly and the tiny smile spread wide. “That ship sailed the second you came up with 'backdoor to heaven’.”

“God.”

“It’s okay. ‘Cock tease’ is a good look on you.”

Rolling his eyes and trying to contain his own smile, Jon said, “So what now?”

“Well, you wrote a song about getting ridden, and then you called me ‘cowboy’ in front of fifty-thousand people right before we sang it. Which was total _bullshit_, by the way--”

Jon started laughing, and Richie smirked. 

“My guess is you’re... curious?”

Sliding his thigh up over Richie’s and fighting the urge to fully mount him, Jon said, “Yeah, but--”

“But you don’t want my massive cock in your cute little nervous ass yet?”

“_Rich!_” Jon said, blood washing up into his face, hot like fire. 

Richie lost it. “Oh my god,” he choked, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. “You should see your cheeks. We’re even now. And you’re lucky there aren’t fifty-thousand people here watching.”

Jon rolled his eyes again. 

Richie laid a hand, palm-up, against his lower belly, and wiggled his first two fingers in the air. “This a little more manageable for a first-time ride?”

Jon felt his lips part, soundless, and he wasn’t sure if it was mostly surprise or lust that had dazed him. 

“You want to?” Richie said.

Squeezing his eyes shut for a second to regain equilibrium, Jon said, “God, yeah.”

“You got any lube or anything?”

Jon’s entire pelvis ached with the need to climb onto him, to be entered and owned by him, and it was almost physically painful to have to say, “Yeah, it’s in my suitcase still,” and roll off the bed. When he returned, Richie was adjusting the pillows beneath his head, propping himself slightly. His dick was hard again, and just for a moment, Jon wondered what it would be like...

He crawled into the bed and straddled Richie’s stomach. The head of the other man’s cock nudged him in the tailbone and he shivered. Richie ran his hands up the tops of Jon’s out-spread thighs. 

“I like this,” he said.

“Which part?” Jon said.

“All of it. But especially the part with you on top of me. I just... like it.”

“That’s good to--” Jon started to say, but was strangled by the feel of Richie’s hands on his dick. The man stroked it one hand over another, down and down again, like the feel of first entering a pussy over and over. Jon reached behind himself and fumbled for Richie’s legs to hold onto, but by the time he anchored himself, his friend was already moving down, fondling his balls. 

“You ready to ride me now?” Richie asked, his hand crawling back between Jon’s legs, sneaking into previously forbidden territory. Jon arched himself up a little as the other man’s fingers parted him and stroked him deeper. 

“Oh, god, yes.”

Richie found the tube of lubricant where it had almost succumbed to the tangle of bedding, and drenched his fingers. They glistened under the low light, and he turned them this way and that, admiring the sparkle of them. “You know, I’ve been told I’m kinda good with these.”

Lifting up to allow full access between his legs, Jon pushed his palms against the padded white satin of the headboard. “Play me,” he said.

Richie’s hand was cold and slick against his flaming skin, and Jon gasped a little at first before pushing into the touch. The other man slipped a finger into him with no ceremony, and the raw bliss of it was excruciating. He twisted the finger a little, circled it, and Jon rocked his hips around, and forward and back, letting every nerve ending of the tight little ring be prodded and pleasured. 

“You want another one?” Richie asked, breathless, and when Jon focused his sight on him, he saw the man’s face was gentle with awe, his eyes bright, his mouth parted and smiling. 

“Yeah,” Jon said, and though he was tight-- almost too tight for Richie’s second finger to get into-- the penetration of it didn’t hurt. Richie held his hand steady against his abdomen, and Jon rolled his hips faster and harder until he was bouncing. 

“Ah-- ah-- ah--”

“That’s it, make it feel good, does it feel good?”

“Yeah, yeah, oh--”

Jon dug his fingertips into the watery-cool softness of the headboard, curling them behind satin-covered buttons, trying to gain grip, but it was so slippery. 

“Mm, I want you so bad,” Richie murmured, and Jon felt the heel of the man’s hand push up on him, behind the balls, forcing him upward, high on his knees. 

“What are you--”

“I wanna taste you.”

The answer barely had time to register before Richie was pulling Jon up and in, taking his solid cock deep in his mouth. Jon sank his fingers behind the satin buttons he held and ripped both of them partially from the headboard. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck--”

Richie gripped Jon’s ass cheeks with his free fingers and thumb, and rippled his fingers inside the taut channel as he pushed the man’s body deeper to him, sucking his dick hard, letting it ride his tongue to the back of his throat repeatedly. 

Jon yanked the buttons off, his forearms sliding down the satin as he shuddered and came. He was almost entirely melted onto Richie’s head when he rolled off onto the bed.

“_Fuck--_”

“You liked it?”

Jon glanced up at the grinning man and decided he was too spent to speak. Richie brushed the hair out of his face.

“You wanna get some champagne sent up?”

Finding his voice after all, Jon said, “What? Why?”

“It’s New Year’s, remember?”

Jon let his head drop into the pillow. “Oh yeah! I kinda forgot.”

“Distracted?”

“A little.”

Richie picked up the phone receiver. “I can’t believe you’ve been flirting with me all this time.”

“I can’t believe you talked about your massive cock in my cute ass.”

Dialing the extension for room service, Richie said, “Maybe after the champagne, huh, cowboy?”

**END**


End file.
